Some weeks are harder than others.
Even as the night temperatures plunge towards freezing again,
my bees thrive and expand.
For me, nature in all her resilient generosity and reciprocity
is a testament to life.
Even when the powers of the world seem hell bent
on destroying all that we cherish as life.
Even as beauty, goodness and truth are offered up daily
on the altars of war and profiteering.
I offer a bee poem and prayer for times such as these….
(I have taken the liberty of using bees instead of birds for the first poem. I hope the authors will forgive me.)
I love to watch how bees
soar on the wind.
There appears to be such
little effort, yet such joy.
I want to become like a bee
and let my spirit soar
on the winds that are blowing through my life.
I will not be crushed against the rocks!
I will sense the rhythm, the
flow, and react accordingly.
I will trust my inner guide.
—Judith Garrett Garrison and Scott Shepherd, Prayers for Healing, ed. Maggie Oman(Berkeley, CA: Conan Press, 1977)226.
Mother of all beginnings
With the honey-nectar
from the hive.
I will sing
The long-forgotten threnody
Of praise to thee.
—Anne Baring, Prayers for Healing, ed. Maggie Oman(Conari Press, Berkeley, CA, 1977)108.